


Rescue To Prince Thorin

by mandzs



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Actual Thief Bilbo Baggins, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Anastasia (1997 & Broadway) Fusion, Angst, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Feels, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield Fluff, Bilbo and Bofur bff's, Bilbo has lived in Erebor since childhood, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Jealous Bofur, M/M, Past Character Death, the beginning is a little dramatic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzs/pseuds/mandzs
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is the least respectable little hobbit you'll ever meet. He lives in the kingdom of Erebor, is best friends with the most stubborn and obstinate dwarf prince you will encounter and is a thief who steals food and knickknacks from dwarf markets to survive. By all means, he would be hated if he still lived in the County, his homeland. But his life is still happy, and nothing even took away his good mood, his comfort and his passion for life.Until Smaug The Golden, attacks Erebor and forces the dwarves - and the hobbit - to be an exiled people. Well, he wasn't exactly bitter or less cheerful than he was, so many years ago, but now he was an adult and was taking his own pains. And when he realizes many years later that Prince Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, crown prince of Erebor and disappeared since that fateful night, may still be alive, his pain turns to hope.So the now determined hobbit sets up a company of thirteen dwarfs and a wizard to recover the lost prince, his best friend since childhood and passion.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bofur/Nori (Tolkien)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Rescue To Prince Thorin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody! This is my first time publishing a story here and also from The Hobbit fandom. To tell you the truth, I don't know if I intend to continue this story; I was just bored, I wrote the prologue to it, I liked it and decided to publish it. I have no scheduled schedule or plot, but it's there in case someone is interested in reading.
> 
> I think it is important to leave some essential notices here: English is NOT my mother tongue (I'm Brazilian), and originally this story was written in Brazilian Portuguese, so it's very likely that there are grammatical errors here. Feel free to correct them.
> 
> According to a warning, this story was inspired by the 1997 animation, Anastasia, but there is still influence from Bilbo's universe.
> 
> And lastly, if you get too attached to canonical events and things like that, this story is not for you, as the events here tend to be a little sidetracked.
> 
> I think that's it. If I continue this story, the tags will change and (perhaps) the classification, nothing is certain.
> 
> Good reading!<3

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_Hope_

Bilbo Baggins was not exactly created by dwarfs. After his loving hobbit parents died - Belladona Took, his mother, on one of his adventures, and his father, Bungo Baggins, from a heart attack - Bilbo followed his mother's advice and ventured beyond the Shire. His father would have been scandalized and said "Baggins don't do that!", but Bilbo was also a Took and he always liked this side of the family more, the risky and curious side.

And so it was that, even years before reaching adulthood, the little hobbit went to settle in Erebor, the kingdom of the dwarfs. He would have liked to have had permanent company during his trip, perhaps that of Gandalf, The Gray - which Bilbo remained without meeting for many years - but he still managed to form some good friends, in Rivendell or Beorn, for example, who were so welcoming.

Erebor was the largest kingdom in Middle-earth. It was a place for great dances, its long corridors dazzling and polished, an air of extravagance to walk on and exceptional food - but no better than that of hobbits. Everyone was delighted with the commercial exchanges, the parties that lasted for days, and the Lonely Mountain itself, although very cold during the winter, drew sighs of appreciation when the fresh air reached the lungs. The wealth and precious stones were countless.

Now, what would a hobbit be doing in the magnitude of that realm? Well, this is what brings us to the previous statement: Bilbo was not raised by dwarfs. He had no home to settle in, a home with a dwarf family to teach him the culture of the other race or parents who could put him to sleep and save money to feed him. Bilbo was raised by nature, he lived alone and the advantage of being lonely was that every night he could choose a different place to sleep, even if outdoors.

  
If he was lucky, a dwarf with a good soul could give him some change or food, because, after all, what good adult would like a hobbit child wandering alone in that great place?

So Bilbo needed to steal. He was a smart little thief who used the silence of his feet to get food and sometimes some jewelry to sell. That was how he survived. But that did not stop him, at least, from having friends or acquaintances who were willing to help him.

Dori, for example, was older than him and as a mother, always concerned for his well being. He didn't have much time for Bilbo, as he needed to worry about his wandering brother Nori - also a thief, who helped the hobbit - and little Ori, a few years older than Bilbo.

There was Bombur, a chubby dwarf with pink cheeks and red hair who always said it was a pleasure to share his food with Bilbo, and Bofur, always willing to cheer him up and play with him with the toys his family made.

Oh, and of course, there was also Thorin, the prince of Erebor.

In fact, how they met is an engaging and unexpected story. The way they became friends was even more for no reason.

It all started when Bilbo was very hungry and decided to venture into the Palace. Yes, in the royal kitchens, where there were endless guards who could effortlessly arrest him, leave him to rot the rest of his life in a cell, without seeing his much-loved sunlight. It seemed very risky, but he loved it, and he had never seen the Palace so closely, so it was an opportunity!

The plan, at first, was easy. Enter during the night, through secret passages in the walls that led to where he wanted, use your size and your feet to take him to the destination. Everything went well until the part where he managed to get a bag of fruit, bread and ham, and then he just needed to leave without being seen.

The world, however, did not seem willing to help him.

“Hey you!” Bilbo stopped, his heart racing and the tip of his ears burning. He gripped the bag tightly, his stomach growling painfully. “Identify yourself!”

Bilbo turned slowly, expecting to see one of those bearded and sturdy dwarf guards who made him deeply afraid, but who he saw was different. Definitely more terrifying: none other than Prince Thorin.

It wasn't that Thorin was not a bearded, robust dwarf - not much, at least. He was a few years older than Bilbo, with long black hair and a thin beard, smaller than that of the dwarfs of his age, and was strong and taller than him. But what stood out were the eyes: blue and intense, even in a face so young being able to make the body tremble.

The problem was that Thorin was a prince. From the royal family. King's son. And Bilbo was in his palace, stealing food from his house.

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth several times, not sure what to say. After all, what would he say? It was pretty obvious what he was doing, with his clothes rumpled and dirty and a full bag slung over his shoulder.

However, he didn't have to worry about that, because when Thorin looked at Bilbo's feet, he gasped in disbelief.

“You are a halfling!” he said.

So Bilbo got angry, because he was a Took, and a Took does not accept to be offended like that. He was half of nothing.

“I'm not a halfling!” He stamped his foot, making Thorin look at him in confusion. “I'm a hobbit! Using the term halfling is very offensive to us, the great Prince Thorin.”

Thorin seemed highly disturbed by the information, wide-eyed and wide-open mouth. Bilbo was already used to dwarfs and others from other races to call him that name, but that didn't mean he would accept the term!

The prince, at least, seemed properly punished.

“I apologize sincerely, dear hobbit, it was not my intention to offend you.” he bows with his hand on the side of the heart. “Thorin Durin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, prince of Erebor, at your service.”

Bilbo is slightly impressed by the class with which he controls his words and actions, but it was to be expected from a member of the royal family - also because he was the son of Thrain, a dwarf with long speeches and as real as was King Thror.

“Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo Baggins, in his and his family's” he says with a bow in return, the bag of food falling awkwardly from his shoulder.

“May I know what you do in the corridors of the kingdom? Did the king summon you?”

The little hobbit's cheeks turn red and his feet drag on the ground in embarrassment. Despite the initial confusion, the dwarf was very polite in his apologies, and now he felt bad about stealing food from his home.

Thorin, realizing Bilbo's hesitation, narrowed his eyes at him as he waited patiently for an answer. Of course, the suspicious look only served to make Bilbo afraid, fear taking over his chest because he thought he would be arrested if he told him the truth.

However, when the hobbit is about to formulate an answer - no doubt full of nervous stutter and fear - someone screams for Thorin, clearly looking for him. Bilbo feels the euphoric instinct to run, but due to fear his feet are planted on the ground like a statue. His heart beats frantically in his chest, with no mercy on the poor nervous hobbit.

Thorin looks at the corridor behind him, at Bilbo and again at the corridor, his unruly black hair flying with the movement. Whoever shouted for him seemed impatient, making Bilbo realize that if he didn't get out of there in that very second, he would undoubtedly be in serious trouble - perhaps even worse than if Thorin were dealing with him.

Bilbo is about to come up with an excuse to run to the hiding place he came from, but Thorin is quick to speak first.

“Go.”

Even if the idea in the first place was really to escape, Bilbo is still confused by the order he was assigned.

“But...”

“Go.” Thorin interrupts him. “It's an order. Run.”

And Bilbo doesn't need any more incentives; soon he is running with the bag in his hand towards his exit. Why Thorin is helping, he doesn't know.

“Ah, there you are!” Bilbo hears someone say. “Do you think you can go out and hide from a meeting the way you are doing? Isn't that what...- Thorin? What are you looking at?”

Bilbo is not there to hear the answer, too focused on returning to the streets and his shelter to finally enjoy a good meal.

Ultimately, Bilbo meets Thorin two weeks later at the kingdom's big market. An understatement will be to say that he was nervous about the dwarf's sudden appearance, but when the prince made no move to scold him for what had happened the last night they met, the hobbit treated him the same way he would treat a dwarf he considered friendly - but always in the way he was respectful of royalty and without the stealing part.

They shaped a friendship and then a platonic romance for each other. Talking was easy, and despite the obvious difference in social class, it was as if there were no barriers to the type of bond that had been involved. Bilbo knew how to deal with Thorin's stubbornness and bad mood through his sarcasm and his own good mood, and Thorin knew how to deal with the demands and exasperation of a hobbit with irony and goodwill.

Sometimes there were longer hugs, long touches, and once there was even a kiss without compromise - and Bilbo even allowed himself to think that he was Thorin's One, since dwarves loved only once - but it was a bond that could not be broken by nothing.

Except for the dragon.

The attack took place on a particularly ordinary day, although there was a ball scheduled for the day. It was sunny by the standards of the Lonely Mountain - cold mountain air, but with the heat of the sun peeking through the clouds -, with dwarfs making their noises from their usual heavy boots and stone picks, the bustling market and the bustling kingdom with the preparations of the event. Food, decorations, clothes to be chosen, speeches to be prepared and an unbeatable feeling of excitement in the air.  
Bilbo, who over the years managed to fulfill the desire to be part of the royal kitchen as a cook - and if Thorin had any involvement in helping with that, no one needed to know - was more than excited. Food was his passion, preparing it for thousands and thousands of people alongside his great friend Bombur was worth everything, and then eating it was even better.

When the time for the ball came, the atmosphere was so contagious that there was no dwarf or hobbit to be discouraged. The salon itself was stunning, the decor as an important complement to real beauty, elegant dwarfs and dwarrowdams in their best clothes, beard and hair styled in complicated and beautiful hairstyles. It was as if it were an enchanting place, magic more beautiful than that of the elves, dancing music echoing all over the place.

Bilbo moved in a euphoric state of animation and work, concerned with serving food for everyone with the anxiety of being able to dance like everyone else was doing. His height a little less than that of the dwarfs had once been a problem, but he learned to dodge crowds so as not to be bumped every few seconds.

Watching the dwarfs in front of him, standing near the royal throne where Thror, king under the mountain, sat in all his magnificence, Bilbo recorded an exchange that would never be forgotten in his mind.

"Thorin, my grandson," said Thror, bringing Thorin closer to his grandfather. "I want to show you something" and so he takes the heart of the mountain out of his hands.

The Arkenstone was found in the darkness of one of the mines, carved into the depths of all its magical beauty. Named after the king's jewel, it shone brightly and reflected all the power that Erebor was capable of enduring, a sign that Thror's right to rule was unquestionable.

Thorin reaches out to touch the stone, but Thror pulls it up to his chest with a fierce look of protection. Bilbo observes the moment of tension that remains, as if Thorin was about to question his grandfather's sanity, but when the dwarf prince turns his gaze to the wide hall and coincidentally meets Bilbo's eyes, the tenderness that adorns his features and the loving smile on his lips distracts the hobbit to a feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

Of course, the moment did not last long.

“Flirting with the Prince of Erebor again, Bilbo?” Said a voice to his right, a long arm around his shoulders.

"Hi, Bofur," Bilbo replies with amused exasperation in his voice. “Don't you have Nori to look for? I'm working at the moment.”

Bofur chokes a little on the beer in his mug when he mentions Nori, but sends Bilbo an unimpressed look. “Working? You are standing looking at Thorin as if he is the most precious thing in Middle-earth... And Nori is too busy dancing with some maiden” he murmurs.

Bilbo observes how, in his half-drunk state, Bofur's eyebrows furrow and a pretty pout forms in his mouth, like a small tantrum, and he laughs at the sight.

Bilbo observes how, in his half-drunk state, Bofur's eyebrows furrow and a pretty pout forms in his mouth, like a small tantrum, and he laughs at the sight. The hat half-dropped to the side next to the impatient look he receives in return only amuses him more.

"Please, you just need to ask him to dance," says Bilbo.

A mocking smile appears in Bofur, his eyes shining with amusement. “Bilbo Baggins giving me loving advice? Who would say!”

Bilbo snorts. “I'm just saying the obvious.”

“The obvious, huh? And why don't you use your beautiful gifts of courting to give our magnificent Prince Thorin Durin a dance?”

Bilbo's heart beats faster with the idea of sticking Thorin's body together with his in a romantic song, but she soon escapes like a river stream.

“No thank you. Thorin must have endless requests to dance.”

“Just like Nori” Bofur murmurs again, his emotions varying from one to another like a roller coaster.

Bilbo laughs. “You are jealous, it is normal to feel that way.”

The provocation, however, did not have as much effect as he would have liked if the devilish gaze on his best dwarf friend said anything.

“Do you know who else is very jealous? Your dear royal dwarf” and so Bofur leaves, leaving a kiss popped on the hobbit's cheek.

"Thorin is not... _My_ dwarf," Bilbo murmurs, his cheeks pink with shame, and when he looks at Thorin again, the dwarf is no longer there.

With a sigh more amused than duly irritated, Bilbo decides that it is time to go back to the kitchen and help with the intense flow of food that needs to pass through the hall. The action gets even more complicated when dwarfs are known to toss food from side to side, but the hobbit has gotten used to it enough to avoid being hit.

Bilbo would have returned to the kitchen and would have done his job as he had been designated, if had it not been for the tragedy that happened next.

The trumpets of danger sounded, the mountain shuddered underfoot, the darkness was covering the skies in a hot rush of fire and destruction, the pines of the forest flying as if a hurricane was lurking. Thus, the evil that took hold in Durin's kingdom became known.

When the dragon broke the strongholds of the castle and entered, everyone started to evacuate from the mountain. Dwarfs ran everywhere, some wounded by the dragon itself, the hall that a few seconds before had been a place of harmony was now a synonym for desolation, and Bilbo Baggins never witnessed such destruction in his miserable life.

Bilbo frantically searched for help, every muscle in his body screaming to run and hide. Halfway there he helped dwarfss to get up, put the few children to run and provide aid to the wounded who had almost no strength to flee, until he spotted a dwarf with black hair and blue robes in the crowd and soon went on your direction.

“Thorin!” Bilbo shouted as loudly as he could, and after a few more attempts, the prince finally came towards him.

It hurt Bilbo's heart to see the desperate look on a dwarf who always showed confidence.

“Where are you going?” Asked Bilbo, realizing that Thorin was going in the opposite direction from the exit.

“My grandfather, Thror, is in the treasure room. I need to get him out of there” he replied as he grabbed Bilbo's arms to keep him from being bumped.

“Alright, I'll go with you.”

"No," interrupted Thorin severely. “You will evacuate with the others. Now go.”

“What? Thorin!”

“Go. It's an order.”

Bilbo was never an emotional and tearful hobbit, but he inevitably feels his eyes fill with tears and his heart breaks into a thousand pieces.

“Thorin, no...” he starts in a choked voice.

“Please, Bilbo. Go now. For me.”

Thorin sighs, as if he's about to cry too, but his eyes only shine with determination and pain. “I will come back. Now hurry up.”

So he turns his back on the hobbit, sending him a piercing look before leaving many promises of hope for Bilbo's aching heart.

When he runs away with the others, it is in his mind that over the days Thorin would return to him and his people.

But he never came back.

For years the people of Erebor lived as a people of hikers from wild lands, exiled from their home. What little of the population remained was led by Frerin, the next of Durin's lineage to rule, knowing that Thrain, Thorin's father, had died in the dragon's ashes. Bilbo never had the opportunity to approach him or his sister Dís as he had done with Thorin, but he knew that both would be great leaders like any other - and that only became clearer as they followed the people of Erebor in search of what was right for them .

Bilbo succumbed to sadness as he sought to help in any way he could. He was immensely happy that some of his dearest friends survived, such as Bofur, Bombur, Nori, Dori and Ori, but his heart was filled with pain when he thought of Thorin.

Some of the dwarfs have spread across the Iron Hills and others across the Blue Mountains. Bilbo, together with the small family of dwarf friends he had, moved to Ered Luin and lived there as he could, sometimes having sad moments, sometimes happy, but the longing always strong in his chest.

Believing that Thorin was dead, for years and years of his life Bilbo limited himself to imagining a non-existent romance - which, bitterly admitted this, could have been real had he not been so fearful of rejection. However, he could not be so selfish when the people he was part of were struggling hard to establish themselves again, so he pushed desires to the bottom of his soul and tried to fit into a new life, somewhere else and a new kingdom.

Until a wizard appeared, claiming to have important news, and the flame of hope lit up again.


End file.
